“Step out the front door like a ghostinto the fog where no one notices the contrast of white on white, and in between the moon and you, the angels get a better view of the crumbling difference between wrong and right. I walk in the air, between the rain, through myself and back again where? I don't know.”

“Well, there's a piece of Maria in every song that I sing. And the price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings. And there is always one last light to turn out and one last bell to ring. And the last one out of the circus has to lock up everything.”

“There's things I remember and things I forget. I miss you; I guess that I should.”

“If dreams are like movies, the memories are films about ghosts.”

“When everybody loves you. Oh! Son, that's just about as funky as you can be!”

“I'm in between the moon and where you are. I know ... I can't be far.”

“and addressed them thus: “I presume you know the difference between front and back, right hand and left hand?”